A fine Samaritan in Bangalore

On the verge of falling asleep a few nights ago, I was shaken awake by my wife. A colleague had called, he had a flat tyre, he was very close by and needed help. His car's tool kit was no good for some reason and I had to lend him ours.

'Why do I have to be woken for that? You know where it is, hand it over!'

"It's very late at night, besides, I don't know how to use our kit, he too may not know..."

('He's your colleague all right but he is a guy, he WILL know') 'I can understand late at night but firstly, all tool kits are the same, if he does not know how to use our tool kit, he is not fit to drive'

"That's very mean, if you don't help people in their time of need, no one will help you ........!"

'Yes yes I know!...'

Cursing the night, I stepped out half asleep.

The Tata Indica tool kit did not have a spanner that worked on his suped-up alloy wheels. I cursed Tata Motors and the owner of the car under my breath.

'How could anyone change a critical part of the car and not have the tools to maintain it?'

I offered the one I had in our Hyundai. That did not work either. Nor did any other contraption or combinations thereof, applied with our combined mid-nightly scientific intelligence.

In an effort to end my agony I concluded that the car be left at our place and he sleep over and fix things in the morning. But he said that was not possible. For some reason I don't remember now (I didn't register then either), he was not sleeping over! He was taking his car home (a good 20 km away)! It was 2.30 am, the breakdown service would not answer the phone. I cursed the maker of the alloy wheel for pushing non-standard products in the market. 'Must have brought it in a container from China with plastic flowers, fake barbies and me-too-Ming vases. Must have cost a hundered rupees each, cheap Chinese import!'

I was readying to curse again, when I saw the lights of a car turning into the road. This was the third or fourth one by. Every time that happened, we stepped away and stood behind the Indica. One never knew midnight drivers. We were about to follow SOP and step off when this red Alto pulled up and stopped.'What does he want at this hour, we didn't flag you down?'

The man was fair, short, round and wore a red shirt. He was in his mid forties, had a pair of thick black handlebars and did not reek of alcohol. Benign! He lit a cigarette, walked up and asked what the problem was. We told him it was a flat tyre and our spanners won't fit, whatever!

In something like a grunt, he asked his companion, Or driver (also short and round but a very dark version of Redshirt) to get something. (Driver Or bodyguard, I couldn't say, but theirs was a relationship poised in true harmony. Where communication had the nuance of a touchscreen and onomatopoiac monosyllables got seamless responses). The dark man produced a small briefcase like box that hid a whole assembly of tools. He took a quick look at the flat tyre and got on the ground to unscrew it. A few attempts later he gave up. Nothing from the briefcase would fit!

Redshirt, by now, had finished his cigarette. He stubbed it the classic way (under his toes, heel swinging sideways) went over to his boot and pulled out another set of tools. He then rolled up his sleeves, squatted on the road and got down to business. Like magic, the tool worked this time! He then handed over the rest of the work to his bodyguard or assistant (at which my wife's colleague took over), lit another cigarette, discoursed on the merits of alloy wheels, offered us information on the best places in Bangalore to get them and some more free tidbits later, it was all over. We were now saying our thank yous and goodbyes.

The business card said he owned a restaurant down the road (Ohhh, the steak place, of course I knew it! But I used to never visit because it did not serve alcohol!). He was going home with his driver. He knew the neighbourhood well and stopped to help someone in distress.

The assistant or manager got behind the wheel this time, and they drove off leaving us in a daze, over the shared smoke, wondering. Who would stop at 3 am, volunteer to assist, then squat on the road and fix your flat for you? That night I could not decide if I would ever do this, help a stranger at 2.30 am. I still am not sure. All I can say is God bless his tribe!